


After School Activities

by Lilyrain



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Arguing, Comfort, Concerts, Dirty Talk, Feelings, First Dates, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Hook-Up, Oral Sex, Smut, Teasing, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7151822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyrain/pseuds/Lilyrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy is Clarke's high school teacher, but seeing her at the concert while drunk and stoned, he couldn't help himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Concert

**Author's Note:**

> A little student-teacher au my friend wanted, the murphy bit is all her.

Shit. He hadn’t expected to see any of the students here. But there stood the Princess herself. He had been fighting an extremely inappropriate attraction to her all school year. And yeah, her ass looked even better in her jean shorts then that damn plaid skirt. The three bowls he let Murphy talk him into before the concert weren’t helping one bit.

The second song was beginning to play, and his group was migrating towards Miller and his cooler of beers. Because alcohol was just what he needed right now. “Fucking Monty and Jasper brought moonshine.” Miller complained about the two quite a lot, something about Jasper trying to steal his boyfriend. “Damn all of you alcoholic bastards.” Bellamy gives his share of the love.

Within a short hour, the opening band had finished, and Bellamy knew he was in trouble. Clarke and her friend had moved right in front of him, and Clarke was “twerking that ass in a circle for daddy.” (As Murphy so classily put it) His bulge grew bigger in his jeans as he watches her move.

He’s biting his lip, looking at her, when she turns around. Her eyes catch his, and he’d be lying if he said the blush she was taken over by wasn’t cute. Maybe it was the weed, maybe the beer. Either way, he managed to find the courage (Or stupidity) to walk up to her. “Hey Clarke.” He says softly, finally realizing how close he had walked to her. “Hello Mr. Blake.” she sounded breathless. “I think you should call me Bellamy.” He took another step forward, “Bellamy.” She whispers, and yeah, he’s slightly in love with how she says his name. Clarke shivers and he places a hand on her hip.

“Clarke.” Is all he can think to respond. His eyes fall on her pink lips. She bites her bottom lip, humming softly. He presses his lips to hers, softly at first, and then he begins to move them with more purpose. “Do you wanna get out of here?” She mumbles, lips still against his. “Where to Princess?”

She leads him away from the stage. He was far to gone to realize how bad of an idea this was. They walk away from the crowd to a grass lot where people had set up tents. He walked closely to her, letting his hand rest on her waist. She climbs into a tent, which holds a pallet of pillows and blankets.

His hands slid under her shirt to pull her flush against him. Her fingers twisted into his hair, tugging him into a deep kiss. Her lips parted in a soft moan when he swept his tongue across it. He grouped her large lace clad breasts and moved his mouth to her neck. Her hands move down and rip her shirt over her head. She reached back and removes her bra, moaning softly as he kisses across her collarbone.

“Bellamy.” She pulls his hair, electing a moan from Bellamy. He lowered them both to the pallet, kissing her jaw hotly. “Well, if you’re going to ask so nicely.” He slowly unzipped her pants, then tugged them down slightly to reveal her lacy panties. “Bellamy, please.” She shivered under him. He tugged them down further and she kicked her pants off.

She let her legs part slightly, “Fuck, Princess, spread your pretty legs for me.” He grabbed her thighs and pinned them to either side of him. She moaned as he peppered her thighs with kisses. “Good girl.” He mutters into her pale flesh. He finds a particularly sensitive spot, and decides he’s leaving a mark. His teeth scrape her soft skin as he sucks on hard, laving the hickey over with his tongue, before sucking on it again. “Hey you mother fucker, what the fuck you-“ She was cut off when he licks a firm stroke through her folds, smirking at her moan. “And you were being such a good girl.”

He watches her eyes grow dark with lust. He hummed as he placed his mouth to her clit. The light touch made her gasp, then moan as he began sucking. He sucked harder, encouraged by her moans and hands. “Bellamy please.” He moans into her pussy as he traces is tongue in zigzags to her wet entrance. “Princess.” He groans before licking into her. “Yes” She moans. “Fuck Princess, I want to taste you when you come.” His voice came out much more broken then he intended. He pushed his tongue into her again, before pulling it out, and back again. His hand finds her clit to rub fast circles.

She throws her head back in a silent scream as she comes. Her inner muscles clench around his tongue, bringing a new wave of wetness. He licked and sucked, working her through her orgasm and tasting her. “Mm Princess, you taste so good.” He kissed her stomach up to her breast. He breathing evens out and she makes a move to remove his shirt.

He helped her in undressing him, though he got them both distracted twice by placing open mouth kisses on her chest. When they where both naked he moved his lips to her mouth. The kiss was all tongue and teeth, much to passionate to pull away from as he enters her. Her nails scratch along his back and she moans into his mouth. He continues to kiss her as he slowly pulls out and pushes back into her. When they part to breath he continues to thrust, speeding up his pace at the sound of a certain high moan.

“Harder Bellamy. Please.” She wraps her legs around him, meeting his thrusts. And he wants to go harder, but he has to hear that sound again. “Louder.” He gets the words out sounding just short of wrecked and moving his hand to rub wide circles into her clit. She lets out the high moan again, only louder. “Good girl.” He groans the words, almost giving in to the urge to come right then and there. He thrust into her harder, speeding up his pace as well.

She lets out a string of curses as her walls clench around his member. Her head is thrown back and he uses the opportunity to kiss her neck. He almost hold back, wanting to see if he can make her come again, but a moan sounding like his name falls from her swollen lips, and he comes, his cock inside her. He pulls out with a grunt, still coming as he presses his length to her soft stomach.

He rolls over and lies beside her. They lay there for a moment, breathing hard, before she pulls a beach towel out of a bag on the edge of the tent. He watches as she cleans herself off. By now the weed and alcohol has been worked mostly out of his system, along with the post-orgasm high. And dread was beginning to take over. She was his fucking student. Some of the best sex of his life, and she was his student.

He decided the best course of action was to get dressed silently, and he was almost finished when she spoke, “Just gonna leave, just like that?” She sounds surprised and slightly hurt. “You’re my fucking student Clarke, this can’t happen.” He reasons. She crosses her arms over chest, “It seems to me that it already did.” He tried hard not see how it made her cleavage look. “I’m sorry Clarke. I can’t fucking do this. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place.” Her face looks pained for a moment, and he hates that he put it there. “Then go.” Her voice and face harden into a neutral expression. And he wants to comfort her, to stay and do it again with her, but he can’t, so he just climbs out of the tent.


	2. Besides you, obviously

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke stays after class, Wells is a life saver really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your second chapter, and because of satan worshipers, there will be a third. 
> 
> *probably like 5

It was the second to last period of the day. To say he was dreading the next class was an understatement. He usually liked teaching AP classes. Most of the students in AP classes liked the subject, and the rest at least cared about their grades. If it weren’t for a certain blonde being in this AP class, it’d be his favorite class to teach. World Culture was just fun, and he got to have fun with the students. He knew some of them as Octavia’s friends, but they never used that against him.

The bell rang, entering into the last passing period. “Shit.” He mumbled to himself as he shuffled papers randomly. Anything to avoid the perfectly curvy eighteen-year-old now sitting in the front row.Said blonde was now looking at him. He hadn’t looked up yet, but he can feel her eyes. The bell rang and he began writing the notes on the board. “We need to go over notes. Whether you take them or not is up to you." Thank god for distractions. There was no way he would be able to deal with talking to her today. 

The bell rang, leaving Bellamy to collect his things and avoid her piercing blue eyes as students shuffled out of his classroom. He looked up when he heard the door being shut and locked. The room was empty, except for one beautiful blonde. "Miss Griffin, can I help you?" He did his best to sound normal, like the smell of her strawberry shampoo wasn't getting to him. Instead of answering, she walked up to him slowly. He tried, and failed, not to watch the alluring sway of her hips. He licked his lips, remembering how she tasted when she was aroused. 

"Mmm I think you can." She stops right in front of him, just close enough that he could reach out and touch her soft skin. He met her blue eyes to find them swimming with determination and arousal. He felt his dick harden and his body heat as lust filled his own body. "Princess, you should walk away." His voice was low and full of warning, "This really isn't something you want to do." She raised an eyebrow, "I also think you're wrong, I do want this, I want you." She whispered against his mouth before placing a insistent kiss on it. His entire body lit up at her words and action. His hands flew up to wrap around her, pulling her flush against him. He delicious softness pulled against his hard body was so right, how could it be wrong?

The kiss became heated and her hands wound into his hair. She moaned into his mouth as he grabbed her thighs, rising her to sit on his desk. "Please, I want you to fuck me." She kissed at his neck, bitting every so often. He's so wrapped up in the feeling of her lips and hands he doesn't hear her phone ring until she's answering it. "Shit, yeah Wells, I'll be there in a minute." She talks into the phone breathlessly as he stepped away from her. He watched as she righted her hair and clothes. "I have to go." She whispers, not meeting his eyes. 

"This isn't going to happen again." He declares hoarsely. She just rolls her eyes. "You and I both want it, and we both know it's good. Honestly, how long are you going to pretend it's impossible?" He eyes the golden teenager suspiciously, "Why do I get the feeling you've done this before?" He finds her answering blush all to adorable. Despite her embarrassed look she answers confidently, "Mr.Blake, I have never slept with my teacher before. Besides you, obviously." She shrugs and he he can't ignore the guilt he feels. "However, two senators, a governor, and the detective trying to take down Jaha." She smirks, winking before leaving the classroom, talking into the phone to Wells. That kid was a life saver, really, what was he thinking kissing her? At school of all places. 

The thing is, he knew Clarke Griffin wasn't the perfect princess he had assumed she was at first. He understood she wasn't a stuck up, rich bitch. Despite his newfound knowledge of that (he'd realized it 3 months ago) he hadn't been expecting her to be so, mischievous. And yeah, he really wanted to fuck her again. It was't like he was ruining an innocent teenager, what could be the harm? 

He sighed, trowing his bag over his shoulder and checking his phone.  **Drinks @ grounders. Murphy buys the first round.** Miller had sent a group chat, to the annoyance of all involved. He wondered why Murphy was willing to buy drinks, though he was in the group, he didn't like people. He read a few of the messages to see Murphy had lost a bet to Jasper, and on what Jasper swears is an entirely different note Miller and Monty are dating. 

Bellamy leaves to shower and change at his place before heading to the bar, because alcohol would fix his Clarke problems. He was fucked, and he accepted that as he told Miller about his adventures with the princess. "Honestly dude, don't go there." Was all his best friend said before joining his newfound lover on the dance floor. He was all but ready to just leave when Clarke and her friend Wells walked into the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wells is usually dead in my fics, so next chapter he's going to talk a bit, just because I like him. Well, I like him in the books, so remember the Alamo you fuckers.


	3. @ the bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve decided it’s over.” It doesn’t sound believable to his own ears, but it seems suitable for Monty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been gone I swear I'm back now and it's kinda short but 
> 
> \+ the other one is updated too

Bellamy sat next to Miller, who was talking to him. Bellamy wasn’t listening, not that he didn’t try to; his eyes and mind couldn’t seem to leave the blonde sitting at the bar. She sat next to Wells Jaha, the senator’s kid. He was surprised to see them here, and not in a nicer place with better drinks. 

He didn’t mean to assume. Just, it was a pretty rough place, mostly old bikers and labors, taking advantage of 5:00 happy hour because all they do is work and drink. Plus his group of friends. No one here cares what happens as long as there’s boos. 

“Dude, stop undressing the blonde, her boyfriend looks like he’s gonna kill you.” Miller pulls him from his thoughts. Shit. He looks at his friend, who lets laugh escape him. “What-“ Bellamy stops when his friend points over his shoulder. He turns around, hoping it wasn’t Jaha’s kid. 

“I don’t know who you are, but stop staring at my friend.” Bellamy and Miller both begin to laugh at the statement. The accuser looks seriously offended, and then his face becomes angry. “Seriously, if your going to tell someone to stop checking out your friend, at least lie and call her your girlfriend.” Miller continues laughing, but something in Jaha’s eye sobers him. The kid’s in love with her

“Okay, sorry, tell her-,” tell Clarke what? He had no reason to be starring at her like he did, not when she’s his student. “Tell her she needs to leave this bar, she’s 18 for fucks sake. “ Now both Miller and Wells are looking at him in surprise, or maybe it was disbelief. Shit. Now think. Bellamy opens his mouth to dig himself out. 

“Wells.” A voice interrupted him. They all turn to see the girl in question. “Hey! I was just-“ Wells began, but Clarke once again interrupted, “Your dad called, you need to go call him. Now.” She spoke softly, yet somehow she left no room to question. Bellamy didn’t blame Wells for listening without question, had it been directed at him, he’d do the same. 

She faced him now, blue eyes catching fire. She looked him over, he felt like he was being read like a book. When she met his eyes, he knew she held cards she shouldn’t. She was determined, and he could see in her eyes she knew what she wanted. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want.” For a glorious moment, he forgot she was talking about being at the bar. 

He opened his mouth to reply, but she was already turning to leave. And yeah, he panicked, “Princess.” It was all he could get out. He knew it sounded much more desperate then intended. She spun back around; arms crossed, and raised an eyebrow in question. There were so many things he could tell her, should tell. But he felt Millers eyes on him, so he went with, “You really shouldn’t be here, or at any bar for that matter.” 

As soon as it came out of his mouth he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes lit up with a fierce light of irritation. “You are not in charge of me.” She seethed all to calmly. He always got a little scarred when she did that, got so angry she was calm. He opened his mouth to respond, but she held up a hand to stop him, “But I am leaving, and I suggest you get your shit together. You can’t stare a hole in my head for half an hour then tell me to leave. No one likes hot and cold, Bellamy.” She spat his name like it tasted badly; he felt it like a punch in the gut. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to think she was just talking about the bar. Once again, as he opened his mouth to speak her actions cut him off. She turned and left the bar, meeting Wells at the door. He gave Bellamy a spiteful look before following after her. 

He settled into the booth. Avoiding Millers eyes like the plague. He downs the rest of his beer and stands up, “I’ll get another round.” He begins to move but Miller stops him. “Like hell you are. Who was she and what on earth was that about?” Bellamy sighed, it took quite a bit to have Miller making demands, but once he did, it was best to listen. 

Bellamy sat back into his seat and sighed. “That was Clarke.” Miller jerked up, starring at him surprised. He began to say something, but apparently decided against it. He let out a long sigh and continued his earlier quest for more beer. He was a little fucked. He did want Clarke, to hold her and kiss her. But, he also wanted his job. It wasn’t until he realized she could be hurt in her academic career that he decided to stop it. Tomorrow, he told himself, he’d tell her it wasn’t happening again. He only hoped he wouldn’t hurt her, and be able to keep his word. 

When he sat back down, Monty had joined Miller across the table from him. He passes Miller his beer and takes a long drink of his own. “We need to talk about this.” Monty begins, soft yet firm in a way only he can. 

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve decided it’s over.” It doesn’t sound believable to his own ears, but it seems suitable for Monty, who just nods and kisses Miller’s cheek before leaving to the bar. Miller however just gives him an unimpressed look before wishing him luck and following his boyfriend. 

So he’s a little screwed, but it’s her fault for being irresistible. He’s an adult; he can keep his hands off her for another two months. He’ll do what he was to, to push her away, and hope she’s not too angry after she graduates. It’s a great plan, except it’s not going to work, and it’s bring him to get drunk on a Monday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize not everyone knows what the Alamo is but as the losers we remember it and try not to be bitter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy deals with the aftermath of his decision. Clarke seeks comfort after a family tragedy.

He didn’t realize the extent of Clarke in his life until he started actively avoiding her. She’s in his AP world culture class, obviously. She’s also on the debate team, which he heads, and they’ve doubled practices to prepare for their final competition. Three days a week after school just wasn’t enough apparently, because then the English teacher had a baby and asked him to head the literary arts club, which she of course is also in. He usually would spend his off period in the library, but student council meets there during that time, which she’s also in. 

Which is why he’s here, a month after the bar, hiding in his classroom and avoiding the blonde student like the plague. She seems to have caught on pretty quickly to what he was doing, but instead of confronting him she’s taken to teasing. She always addresses him as Mr. Blake, but letting her voice become low and husky. Her hand lingers with any contact they have, sending sparks through his entire body with just a brush of her fingers. 

She chews on her pen while he lectures. It’s a slow kind of torture, trying to cram review before exams while imaging her mouth on him. Several times he’s lost him train of thought staring at her, and thankfully no ones caught on that it’s always her he’s lost on her. The third time it happened she approached him after class, asking if he’s feeling okay and smirking at his hasty respond before leaving the room, her perfect ass swaying to her steps. 

So she’s trying to make him break. He resisted her all school year, he can handle one more month of flirty tones and perfect figure. He’s okay, really. Well, he’s hiding in his classroom, trying desperately to get rid of his arousal before his next class. She had stopped by his class during lunch (he ate in his class now, and it is not because of her) and asked about an assignment. She hadn’t even done much, just smiled seductively and placed a hand on his arm in gratitude. But even after she left his mind refused to stop imagining the millions of things he’d like to do to her. 

It’s just before the bell rings, and he has it mostly under control. He’s in the back of the room, sorting graded reviews to give back to his students, who apparently don’t see him. “I’m just saying, she’s single, you should go for it.” One kid, Conner says. “Not to mention hot as hell, even if you’re going different places, I know half our class would kill to hit that.” Jeffery adds. High school boys never surprise him; of course they’re talking about sex. He turns, arms crossed and ready to make his presence known when the third boy, Finn speaks, “Obviously I’d like to sleep with her, but I don’t think Clarke’s the kind of person you just fuck.” 

Bellamy freezes, a bubble of jealousy deep in his chest making itself known. He was never going to be able to teach these kids knowing this, but he listens anyway. “You’re right. She probably takes more then a month to put out.” The first kid supplies. Bellamy almost laughs, realizing how little they know about her. He finds it oddly comforting that they probably think that because she’s not interested in people her own age, or at least the ones these boys hang out with. 

“But if you have a shot, its worth it, she has the best tits any of you will ever see.” Jeffery is telling Finn as the bell finally rings, giving himself an excuse to speak, “If you’d get your reviews before you sit down, that’d be great.” The boys look a little guilty, but say nothing as they join the few other kids entering at getting their papers. 

He’s bothered the rest of the day with a single question. Why does Collins think he has a shot? Clarke can date, or sleep with, whomever she wants. She’s made that abundantly clear to him. He never had any claim to her, just one night and close call, but she feels like his. He’s spent so long trying to figure out his attraction to her, he’d forgotten to think about his feelings. His stupid feelings. 

By the time his last class rolls around, he’s pretty much come to terms with the fact that he likes her, and a lot. His class settles in, and he tries to ignore the drop in his stomach when he notices Clarke’s seat is empty. He tries to enjoy the break from her teasing, but god does he miss it. At least he got to see her earlier today, he’s not sure he can go too long without her, which should probably be a warning sign that he’s in too deep.

A knock on the door interrupts his entirely justified class lecture about the importance of preparing for exams by coming to class. The principle, Anya Woods, pokes her head into the classroom. “Mr. Blake, could I have miss Griffin please?” His heart jumps and begins a to speed up, “She’s not here.” He tries to keep his voice steady as his eyes search the woman face for any sign of trouble. As always his bosses face remains impassive, “Well, sorry to interrupt.” 

He sits at his desk, prepared to spend the rest of the class trying not to freak out. Where the hell is she? Why the hell does the principle need her? His phone vibrates on his desk five minuets before the day ends. No ones getting anything done anyway, so he checks it. Octavia sent him a link, he’s about to tell her to get off her phone while at school, but she sends another text. 

O: We were watching it live in Gov. Griffin okay?

He clicks the link, finding a debate between two local politicians. Theolonis Jaha stands on one side, Abby Griffin seated on the stage behind him, with his competitor Dante Wallace opposite of him. Dante’s son, Cage, is seated behind him. The video starts well into the debate, and he’s not sure why until about 30 seconds in, when Jaha suddenly spouts a gunshot wound in his chest, falling backward. 

The clip ends right after that, and he’s stunned for a moment before he plays it again. He plays it for the third time with the sound on, not one of his students notice the noise. He digs into his desk drawer, pulling out the roster for his debate team. He had purposely avoiding taking her number off here, not only was it boarding creepy, but it was testing fate. He put the number in his phone and sent a text before he could chicken out.   
Me: You alright Princess?

He puts his phone in his pocket so he’ll know if she texts back. The last bell rings, and he begins cleaning his room and answering last minute questions on autopilot. He’s at his desk once all the students leave, filling his bag with papers to be graded, when his phone vibrates. He jumps at the feeling, scurrying to look at it. He would be embarrassed if he weren’t so worried. 

Princess: Fine, but I’ve been better.

Before he can answer another text comes through, causing his panic to rise even more. It’s an address. No answer to his question, no question of who it is texting her or how he got her number. Just an address. It feels dangerous, because he’s almost certain it’s her address. She wouldn’t send it if she wasn’t expecting him to use it, hopefully she thought this through because he’s going. 

The Clarke he knew was gone for a while, replaced with a sad and withdrawn Clarke. He missed her staying after class to discuss (argue) about what he’s taught. He missed her doodles covering her papers and the stupid history puns she wrote in the margins. He was finally seeing her again, she started acting like herself just a week or so before the concert. He needs her to be okay, and if she wants him to come over, he’ll do it. 

It’s an apartment building about half an hour away from the school. It’s on the nicer side, but nothing big or fancy. He had decided not to answer the text, but it didn’t include which apartment, so once he’s in the parking lot he gets his phone out.

He’s about to send a text when someone knocks on his window, causing him to jump. It’s her, wrapped in a fuzzy grey blanket. He opens the door and takes her in. Her golden hair is pulled into a tight braid, her eyes red and smudged with mascara. He silently holds his arms out, relieved when she steps into them. He holds her close to him, her own arms tight around him as she sighs into his chest. 

She pulls back just enough to look at him. Her blue eyes meeting his own without the light it usually held. “He’s not dead. Wells is at the hospital with him.” Her voice is softer then he’s used to, sounding small and hurt. “He asked everyone else to leave.” She closes her eyes as he presses a kiss to her temple. “Wells was with me last November when my dad died, I feel I should be there for him.” She makes a frustrated noise and buries her head in his chest. 

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” He whispers into her hair, pressing a kiss there before letting her lead the way. Honestly, he doesn’t pay much attention to the inside of the building. He’s focused on her, sad and frustrated, but strong and defiantly relieved. When she opens a door to what he assumes is her apartment, she turns in his arms, one of which stayed wrapped around her the whole way up, “Wells and I moved here after my dad died, so no ones home but, stay away from the widows? There are blinds though.” She looks mildly worried, and he gives her a questioning look. “Both are parents are politicians, you never know what detectives are on the street or in cars.” He freezes, what if someone saw him come here? He hadn’t been worried about being caught seeing her, but he is still her teacher. “Don’t worry, I checked the parking lot before you came” She seems to catch on to his unease and squeezes him reassuringly. 

The inside of the apartment is cozy, mismatched furniture and modern art blending in a way that’s so Clarke. A knitted blankets, sweaters, and scarves cover nearly everything in the living room. A large bookshelf overflows with thick books, ending in stacks on the floor. The coffee table is covered in art supplies, papers and pencils and charcoal in so many different shades he wondered where she managed to find them all. 

“It’s um, we don’t really have people over?” She offers, a faint blush o her checks. He lets out a soft chuckle, “You’ve spend the last month teasing me in school but are embarrassed that your home looks like a home?” She laughs a little, a sound he had been missing and now wants to here again and again. “So you did notice. I was starting to think I’d lost my touch.” She winks playfully, her earlier sadness retreating to just the corners of her eyes. 

He pulls her back to him, wrapping her up in his arms and sighing. “You have no idea.” Tugging her hair a little, he elects a small laugh for the second time. She pulls back, lips pouting a little, “I, I know you probably meant that this was over, but, it’s been a long day, and even longer month. Could you stay just, and just hold me tonight?” And she sounds so hopeful, sadness and hurt creeping into her voice. 

“I never meant to hurt you Clarke, I just don’t want to mess things up for either of us.” He tightens his grip on her, eyes searching hers as he tries to explain. “This was, this is dangerous.” She looks down, his heart pounding in protest of the loss of her blue eyes. “I understand. I just really need you tonight.” She says, she sounds so small and tired, two things he never expected from the fighter that is Clarke Griffin. 

“Of course.” He whispers, her eyes meeting his again as she smiles. “Thank you.” She whispers back before pulling him to her bedroom. He doesn’t look around, just pulls off his belt and shirt before climbing into her bed and wrapping himself around her. He’s never really gotten to hold her before. To indulge in the feeling of her body against him, the smell of her hair and softness of her skin. 

They fall asleep eventually, pressed close together as he whispers sweet nothings into her hair. He really, really hopes she’s not listening. He’s pretty sure he say’s he loves her, somewhere between how beautiful and how strong she is. He can’t even take it back, because damn if he doesn’t mean it with every inch of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn't go where I was planning but I think it went pretty well.


	5. He's feeling pretty stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy deals with the aftermath of staying with Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is gonna be longer then I expected. Sorry?

The thing is, Bellamy’s never really been in a relationship. He’s been on dates, had more causal flings then necessary, and a lot of one night stands. But, he doesn’t do real relationships. Not because he has anything against it, he’s just never really liked anyone. So it’s a little annoying, that he’s in love with his first real crush. It’s even more annoying that she’s his student. It was stupid of him. He's feeling pretty stupid. 

The morning after they’d sleep curled around each other he’d stayed with her just an hour or two. It was stupid, but the whole thing was stupid, so he mind as well enjoy his stupid. They had made breakfast together, laughing and talking as they sat close enough so their knees were touching. It was nice, if domestic. He never saw himself as a domestic, settle down kind of guy. And it scarred the shit out of his that he could see being that with her. He left when she got a call from Wells and said she needed to go pick him up from the hospital. 

A few days pass and she makes use of his number. She never texts him, only phone calls, and never more then half an hour. They don’t talk about them, why he had stayed or what had happened last month. She doesn’t mention how he had avoided her. It was nice, if completely not helping him stop his stupid feelings.

It was three days later when she returned to school. Wells was still gone, presumably at the hospital or under protective custody. He was worried about how she was going to act today. He didn’t want her to shy away from him, but he didn’t want anyone to pick up on how close he wanted her. He hated that he was nervous, he’s never nervous, about seeing her. Fucking Stupid he curses. 

Turns out Clarke decided picking back up on her teasing was the right choice. In one day he saw her four times, each time she’s smirked and winked and drove him up the wall. By the time debate club began he was ready to die. She was relentless. Purposely sitting directly across from him and leaning forward onto her elbows, giving him a perfect view down her shirt. He swallowed thickly, forcing is eyes up to meet hers, which turned out to be the wrong choice. She raised an eyebrow, the blue eyes he’d fallen for swirling with amusement. 

What might have been worse is that the club decided to have him go up against one of them, and of course Clarke volunteered. Bellamy still isn’t sure if she knows how much he loves arguing with her, which is essentially what they end up doing instead of actually debating. He holds on to the hope that it isn’t just to mess with him, until she smiles mischievously and he knows she’s going to have as much fun as he will. 

The debate (argument) got pretty heated. He loves riling her up, the way her skin gets pink and her eyes swim with different colors of blue. She talks with her hands, the movement extending to her whole body and he’s mesmerized by it. Once she notices his eyes leaving hers, going to her lips or hands or chest, she starts using it to her advantage. Always smirking as the kid, Monroe, playing judge claims she won the point because he says nothing but a stammered sentence back. 

Before they know it, it’s 7:00 and Monroe is calling it. They declare Clarke the winner, but he figures that’s because of some student union or something. They ran late, so no one lingers, all excited to get home. Within five minuets everyone is gone, except Clarke that is. He shuts the door with a click, there’s’ no one left in the building this late on a Friday, but better safe then sorry. 

When he turns around, she’s sitting on his desk. He takes a deep breath before striding over to her. He stands in front of her, meeting her bright eyes with his dark ones. “Back here are we?” She teases, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward. He shakes his head, coming to a decision. He steps forward until he’s in between her knees and places his hands on the desk on either side of her.

“Clarke, what are we doing here?” He asks earnestly. He wants, no, he needs to know what she wants out of this. If she’s just looking to fuck, or to fuck a teacher, he’s not sure he’ll be okay. Not when he feels the way he does. His face is close to hers, and he watches as her eyes study his face, trying to find his answer before revealing hers. 

She leans forward, a gentle hand cupping his chin. She places her lips on his in a chaste kiss. It’s softer then the other kisses they’ve shared. This kiss is slow and purposeful lips moving together as she tries to convey a message. He’s not sure he understands, but for now its close enough to what he wants and it’s enough. He places a hand on her thigh, letting the other span her ribcage. 

His tongue runs along her bottom lip, and she opens her mouth for his tongue to slip inside. She tastes like the cherry soda she drank in class today, her lips around the straw as she watched is lesson intently. He moans softly at the memory of trying not to watch her drink that blessed cherry soda. He moves both hands to hold her closer as he deeps the kiss. His hand tangles in her hair, pulling softly. 

She lets out a moan and it vibrates gently against his mouth. Her hands come up and around his neck, pulling his hair gently. He moans into her mouth, her legs coming up to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to her. The kiss becomes a little desperate as she pushes off his jacket and begins unbuttoning his shirt. It’s a difficult task, considering her won’t stop kissing her. 

She just pulls away and laughs as she slides it off his shoulders. He whimpers at the loss, lips finding her neck. He wants to take his time, if he’s doing this he wants it to last, but they are in his classroom. He tugs her shirt hem until she raises her arms and lets him tug the shirt over her head. His head drops to her cleavage, kissing the pale flesh above her bra cup while he brings his thumbs up to rub her through the materiel. 

She moans, pulling his head up to look her in the eyes. “If you don’t fuck me right now,” She demands in a husky voice. The raspy sound shoots straight through him. He smirks, slides his hands up her thighs and into her skirt. She gasps as he bunches the plaid fabric high on her waist, one hand holding her hip tight as the other slides her panties down her legs. He groans as she undoes his pants, her soft hands dipping into his briefs and wrap around his throbbing shaft. She slides her hand up and down once, before pulling him free from his constraints. 

“Clarke wait.” She freezes her motions, pulling back so her lust blown eyes meet his. “You have to know.” He lets on hand rest on her cheek in a gentle caress. “You have to know this isn’t just sex for me.” He says softly, like it’s a secret only she can know. He’s a little worried she’ll run. That this isn’t what she wanted. He’s about to step back, let her leave when she grabs his waist with one hand. The other once again wrapping around his length, angling his hips so pushes into her softy. “Me either.” She whispers and he pushes into her warmth before he even realizes he’s doing so. They moan in unison when he bottoms out. He forces his hips not to thrust, giving her a moment to adjust to his size. 

Her legs once again wrap around his waist, holding him tightly as he begins to thrust. She moans softly into his skin, her soft lips moving against his neck as their hips move together. His one hand is one her waist, griping her firmly as he tries to keep himself together. The other hand wraps around her soft thigh so he can pull her leg up higher. Her inner muscles clench at the change in angle. He raises her other leg and is rewarded with her husky voice, “Oh god.” 

“Just Bellamy’s fine.” He grits back. She tugs his hair in retaliation, eliciting a groan from the back of his throat. He keeps talking though, telling her how she drives him crazy, how perfect it feels to be inside her. She bites his shoulder to stifle her moans, and he has to bite at her own to cover up his groan, her nails dragging up and down his back as she meets his thrusts. He lifts his mouth to her ear, nipping her earlobe softly. “Come baby.” He whispers, his voice wrecked to his own ears. He wasn’t lying, she feels perfect, all wet and tight and he’s not going to last much longer if she keeps clenching around him like that. “Baby, baby come on. Come on, come baby.” He begs, slipping his hand between them to rub at her clit. 

She comes, head thrown back in a silent scream as her pussy clenches uncontrollably around him. He fucks her right through her orgasm. He speeds up once she’s come down from her high, holding on until he feels her coming again, before he pulls out, and he’s coming on her stomach before his hand even wraps around his shaft. 

He kisses her shoulder softly, before slowly moving to untangle them. He’s not at all pleased that he has to stop touching her, but he does have to. Clarke slips off his desk and pulls her clothes on. “What are you doing tonight?” He asks once they’re dressed. She smiles and shakes her head a little. She looks at him again and laughs, a sweet low sound that sends in heart rolling. “You.” She leans up on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. “Can you come over? I’m currently roommate less.” 

She looks at him, all hopeful and bright. Shit he’s so gone for her, so he smiles at her and touches her jaw. She leans into his touch as he answers, “How about you come over instead.” She frowns a little, but he smiles and kisses it away. “Nothing against you place.” He kisses her forehead, “Go home and change, I’ll text you my address.” He kisses her one more time before half turning towards his desk. She smiled brightly again, shiny blew eyes a shade he’s hasn’t seen on her yet, “See yeah later Bellamy.” She half-whispers, then she turns and strides out the door. He gives himself a moment to think about what had just happened on his desk. Then he straightens out his desktop and pulls his bag over his shoulder. “You almost done?” A low voice startles him towards the door. He sees David, an old janitor that locks up at night. Thankfully, this isn’t the first time he’s stayed at school this late. Not even the first time it was with students. “Yeah, I’m headed out. Have a good night man.” He nods to him as he passes him, headed out into the darkening parking lot.

When he opens his apartment door, Octavia is sitting on his couch. “You’re home late.” She states without looking up from the open textbook on her lap. He’s not sure what to do, he’s never told Octavia to leave before, but he’s already texted Clarke and she’s going to be here soon. “I’m going to shower.” He sighs, hoping to figure is out by the time he’s done. She hums and waves a hand. 

He doesn’t take long in the shower, just washes his hair and rinses off the school day. He doesn’t bother with a shirt, just throws on some sweatpants and goes to the living room. Octavia is in the same position he left her in, her eyes still trained to the page in front of her. “So I have someone coming over.” He figures he should bite the bullet, try to get her upstairs before Clarke comes wondering through the hallways. His sisters head snaps up, “Please don’t kick me out so one of your bar met fuck buddy’s can come over.” She looks up at him with innocent eyes, contradicting the venom in her statement. 

He’s a little offended she assumes he meeting someone to fuck, but that is the closest thing to a relationship he’s had in a while. And it’s not like he doesn’t plan to have sex tonight. “It’s not like that.” He shrugs his shoulders, mumbling the only explanation he’s willing to offer. She huffs out a harsh laugh. “Yeah right. Come on Bell.” She whines. He sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. “She, I’m not sure what she is, but it’s not like that.” She gives him a questioning look. “I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow?” He offers.

Her face breaks into a huge grin. “You actually like someone? This is a monumental moment in history!” She exclaims, throwing her hands into the air. “Yeah whatever. So will you leave now?” He gives his best pleading eyes. Her grin widens, “Absolutely not. I will meet her and then I will go.” She crosses her arms. “No.” He says a little too quickly. She raises an eyebrow, but before either get to continue there’s a knock at the door. 

Octavia grins something wicked. “No.” He warns softly, the word having barely left his mouth before she was sprinting towards his front door. He rushes after her on instinct and crashes into her frozen body. She was the door slung open, with Clarke Griffin standing in front of her. “Griffin?” Octavia says in disbelief. He grabs her arm and tugs softly enough for her to turn to him. “O,” He says a bit to cautiously. Her eyes widen as she realizes why Clarke’s here. 

To her credit, she doesn’t explode, though she looks like she wants to. Octavia just walks to the seat she previously occupied and looked at her hands. He turns to Clarke, motioning for her to come inside and closing the door behind her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know she would be here.” He mumbles into her ear and wraps his arms around her waist from behind her. She sighs, leaning back into him before turning her head to whisper, “I’m not sure what to say to her.” 

He presses a kiss into her hair, “I’ll take care of it.” He takes a step to go around her and pauses to peck her on the cheek. “Wait in the kitchen okay? I’ll be there in a minute. He takes a deep breath before turning to face his sister. This could go very wrong, but he needed to face it now, if nothing else to make sure she doesn’t open her mouth and hurt him or worse, Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest I have no clue were this is going but it's going so.
> 
> Question: Where is my mind? I'm working on three stories right now and it's all going so slow and shitty.


	6. Clarke's mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Octavia Blake answers the door. 
> 
> Now said Blake is yelling at the older Blake. A room over, in the kitchen, Clarke tries not to freak out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's POV

Clarke stood in Bellamy’s kitchen, listening to him argue with his sister in the next room. Needless to say, she didn’t think she would be here when she woke up this morning. Then again, she never planned any of this. From day one, Bellamy was a mistake. Her huge, stupid crush on him started her freshman year.

She hadn’t been in his class, and he probably didn’t know she existed until she was this year, nearly four years later. Though he didn’t know it, she joined club after club in hopes of seeing him. And yeah, pissing him off. He just argued very, passionately, was the word. She was head over fucking heels for a teacher that yelled at her at least bi monthly, and it was a mistake. 

Even knowing so, she couldn’t stay away. Much to her surprise, and pleasure, it turned out once he figured out who she was he couldn’t either. So she joined debate club as a sophomore to argue with him, student council as a junior to argue with him, even his stupid mythology club at the beginning of her senior, though she hadn’t stuck around there long. Her need to be pissing off Bellamy Blake made her the student her mother wanted her to be. 

This year had been the best of her life. Despite the loss of her father, and the ugly fights with bother her mother and Wells, it was amazing. Three years and he finally noticed her. She wasn’t some stupid he yelled at; she was Clarke, The Princess. He had a goddamn nickname for her, and if her heart did a stupid flutter every time he spat it at her it wasn’t her fault. Things were good, she wasn’t just another student, but she was still nothing more then a student. 

But then, in true Clarke fashion, she made an even bigger mistake. Octavia and Raven had insisted on drinking before and during the concert. She hadn’t known either long, but her only friend she had before met the two was Wells. She felt like she was lying with Octavia around, but how do tell someone you’ve spent all of high school pissing off, and crushing on, her big brother? 

So really, it’s Octavia and Raven’s fault she slept with Bellamy that night. She drank with them. They gave her a stupid pep talk about getting laid. She even told Raven as much, as she got ready to go to the bar with Wells. They were meeting to reconcile, and hopefully move in together like they originally planned. Yeah, it was requiring alcohol and the loss of her study night at Octavia’s, but worth it. 

“No, it’s your fault. You have a thing, if we mention sex you have to get some, so not my fault.” She smirked playfully, “So, how was sex with the teach?” She raises an eyebrow. Clarke blushes, Raven traded her silence for her to talk about it, but like a true friend she agreed to let Clarke pick when they talk about it. “It was, fine, okay?” She crosses her arms and shrugs. Raven doesn’t need to know she kissed him again today. 

What Raven doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Her friend studies her face, her hard look telling her she knows there’s more. Of course, Raven always knows when she’s not getting told the whole story. It’s a superpower, really. With a sigh, Clarke conceded, “I did a thing today after school. A stupid thing.” She shakes her head, “A pretty great thing, but also pretty stupid.” Raven gives her a sympathetic smile, but doesn’t comment, instead she asks when she has to leave to met Wells, and lets them move on. 

If she’s honest, Clarke doesn’t now why she’s so determined to get Bellamy to admit he wants to be with her. Maybe it’s because she can see that he does, it’s clear as day, but he insists he doesn’t want it. He’s a good man, she realizes. An asshole, yes, but a good man. She admires him for it, and if she hadn’t already been in love with him, she would have fallen all over again. That doesn’t mean it’s not a mistake, just a fucking lovely one. 

The bar was another mistake. Though she should of known that, after all she’s pretty prone to making them. Bellamy’s here, and it’s not a good idea, not after what happened in his classroom earlier today. It doesn’t help that he won’t stop looking at her. He’s been playing hot and cold and she’s done. Wells is her oldest friend, and she doesn’t want to take her frustrations out on him. She excuses her self to go to the bathroom, hoping to call Raven and calm herself down. 

Of course, Raven doesn’t answer. So she goes back out to the bar. Another mistake. Really, she should get an award. Wells is standing in front of Bellamy and his friend. She storms over as quickly as possible with out drawing attention to herself. Bellamy is telling Wells to tell her to leave as she approaches. That bastard. 

Arms crossed, “Wells.” She demanded. They all three turn to look at her. He starts to speak, but she cuts him off, “Your dad called, you need to go call him. Now.” It’s an old code they made, dad called met get ready to go. She hated pulling this on him, but she can’t have Bellamy and Wells confutations, not when she’s not sure where her relationship is with either of them. 

She turned to Bellamy, her mind remember what he had been saying to Wells when she walked up. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want.” She sees his eyes darken, and she knows is mind is reeling. She’s going to leave it at that, but he speaks, “Princess.” It comes out in a low, hoarse voice. She’s embarrassed to admit her knees go a little weak. When she raises an eyebrow, he raises to the challenge, “You really shouldn’t be here, or at any bar for that matter. 

And he was still trying to tell her what to do. She’s really anger now. At him and his stupid indecision and orders. “You are not in charge of me.” She bites out, “But I am leaving, and I suggest you get your shit together. You can’t stare a hole in my head for half an hour then tell me to leave. No one likes hot and cold, Bellamy.” With that she storms out.

She finds Wells out by his car. “So, want to tell me who he is?” He asks, sounding tired, but she can hear the angry edges to his tone. This was their problem, he was in love with her, but she wasn’t in love with him. Not that she didn’t love him, just not the way he wanted. Not like you love Bellamy a voice in her head supplies. She angrily shakes her head, “I’m sorry, okay? I can’t stop liking people because you like me.” She bites. She sees the hurt on his face, and though she feels bad, she refuses to apologize. 

“Fine.” He sighs. “Just, can we go back to you being my best friend?” She deflates with him, tired of fighting. “Yeah, so wanna move in?” She nudges his shoulder, and he gives her a pleased smile. “Only if it’s the place we picked together. No offense, but you have horrible taste in real estate.” He teases, friendly despite the words. “Yeah whatever.” 

After that, she has every intention of teasing Bellamy until he cracks. If her mother taught her anything, it was a man thinks with the right head one of ten times. She doesn’t really have a plan, just wears last year skirt and winks a lot. She was honestly worried it wasn’t working, that he wasn’t even bothered by her little show. Then he gets caught up looking at her, losing his place in his teaching. Students barely notice, having stopped listening to him months ago, but Clarke did. She notices, and she fucking loves it.

She thinks she’s about to get past his incredible armor. He gaze is dark, somehow unnoticed despite them following her meticulously. She almost hates how just him watching her gets to her, but god does it. She’s planed to stay after, then Theolonis Jaha gets shot. She tries to be there for Wells. To be there with him for both there sakes, but he has a mother. She concedes to go home alone and try not to worry too much.

Seeing the text from an unknown number, it doesn’t take much for her to piece together its Bellamy. Inviting him over was not a mistake, no matter what her head says. She needed someone, needed him. Despite the circumstances, it was perfect. He held her like she wanted him to. He kissed her head and whispered sweet nothings until she forgot how cruel the world was. 

She woke up wrapped in him, it was amazing, but she didn’t let her self linger long. She gives herself five minutes, before climbing out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom. She leaves an hour later, sending him on his way. They don’t talk about what it means, and she’s thankful. He just kisses her head and tells her to drive safe, before getting in his own car and leaving. 

Theolonis doesn’t die, thank god. Wells is going to stay at his parent’s house for a while. He insists Clarke goes to her mothers, but she doesn’t. She can’t, but she does call her and meet her for lunch. Their relationship is struggling, but she feels like they’re getting better. 

When it’s time for her to go back to school, she spends a good two hours debating with Raven how she should move forward with her Bellamy problem. Octavia is with Harper to finish a project, so she couldn’t make it to their pre-scheduled girls day. Clarke hates that she’s thankful for it. She likes Octavia, but she really wants to talk about Bellamy.

“Just continue the plan of seduction. He’ll be expecting some emotional shit, then bam, surprise boner and you win.” She talks with expressive but bored hands, like this is something she talks about all the time. Maybe it is, who is Clarke to judge her. “Of course then you have to like, actually talk to him. Not fuck or tease or fight, talk.” She gives Clarke a stern look. 

She can’t help it, she laughs. She almost worries Raven would take offense, but she just joins in. “For real though,” They sober, “Do what you want, that’s your thing right?” She makes a serious face, before they both bust of in laughter again. 

She goes with Raven’s advice. She can’t complain as he’s kissing her. When he’s touching her she mentally swears to thank Raven. His confession, “This isn’t just sex for me.” Drives her insane. And when he’s inside her, she feels like heaven. She’s as happy as she’s been in weeks when he invites her over.

She showers, and calls Wells before she heads over. A bag with clothes and a toothbrush are in her back seat, but she leaves them as she makes her way up the stairs to his building. She’s all nerves and excitement as she knocks on the door. 

Then Octavia Blake answers the door. 

Now said Blake is yelling at the older Blake. A room over, in the kitchen, Clarke tries not to freak out. Octavia and her had recently become friends, but she had never intruded Clarke to her brother. She had mentioned she had one, and he was a teacher. Clarke only found out the two were related this year, despite Octavia having been in school with her for an entire year before. She didn’t want Octavia to hate her, but she also didn’t want to give up Bellamy. Not when she just really got him. 

“I can’t believe this.” Octavia storms into the kitchen, pointing a finger at Clarke accusingly she continues, “You’ve been lying to me! And sleeping with my brother!” She yells. “Octavia calm down.” Bellamy insists from behind her. Clarke bows her head, ashamed of what she’s done to her friend. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want to say anything until I knew it was a thing.” She tried to explain. 

Her friend however got madder, “It shouldn’t even have been a possible thing!” She screams. “Octavia now.” Bellamy demands. She turns to her brother and crosses her arms. “Fine.” She turns to Clarke before seething out, “You and me? We’ve got problems.” and storming from the apartment. 

Clarke releases a long breath after the door slams shut. She doesn’t realize she’s cried until Bellamy’s hand gently brushes a tear from her cheek. She snaps out of her gaze on the door and quickly wipes under eyes. He chuckles softly, “Sorry about that. She’s a bit of a hot head, gets it form me I’m afraid.” 

She laughs a little, smiling despite herself. “There it is, the famous Clarke Griffin smile.” She puts a hand on her hip, steading her and making her relax. “Famous, huh?” She brings her hands up to rest on his shoulders. They’re nice shoulders, she notes not for the first time. “Oh definitely.” He replies easily, tangling his other hand in her hair to angle her head before kissing her. It’s not soft, but not desperate either. Just passion, and feelings they had never admitted. 

She kisses him back with all the passion and love she’s felt for him. Her hands tangle in his hair as she tries to deepen the kiss. He opens is mouth, granting her access and tangling his tongue with hers. He pulls her closer, and the feeling of their bodies pressed together causes them to moan in unison. 

They pull apart to breath, and she takes the opportunity to kiss his jaw. He sighs, arms wrapping around her as she starts mouthing down the column of his throat. She sucks at his pulse, feeling it’s just as rapid as her own. “Come on.” He mumbles and pulls himself away to drag her down the hall. 

His bedroom is nothing like she expected. She hadn’t spent a lot of time imagining his bedroom. That would be weird. She had, however, had plenty of dreams that took place in a bedroom that she always assumed was his when she woke up. It’s neat, tidy compared the stacks upon stacks of books and papers that make up his classroom. She had figured his classroom and bedroom would be the same, but no. Despite the cleanness of it, it was also very bare. His class was covered in posters and pictures and stupidly decorated for every holiday. Even the stupid ones, like Columbis Day. 

He lets her stand in the middle of the room and look around for a minute. When she turns to look at him, he’s watching her with an expression she can’t read. “What?” She whishes her voice didn’t come out so hoarse. He smiles, looking at the ground and running a hand through his hair. When he meets her eyes again, he looks nervous. It’s an adorable look on him, and she has to resist the urge to kiss him until it’s gone. 

“Should we talk about this?” He rubs the back of neck, a gesture she’s recognizes from all the arguing she’s done with him. He is nervous. She’s like a kid in candy store. She reaches out and grabs his hands, smiling to her self. A voice in her head sounding much too like Raven tells her they have to. “I suppose.” She lets go and sits on his bed. She looks up at him, his eyes burning into her as he follows her. 

He sits beside her, not even touching, and stakes a deep breath before speaking, “I’m not sure what’s happening between you and Octavia. But she’s pretty much going to hate me no matter what now, so I mind as well get the girl out of it. So-” He must lose some courage near the end, because his voice because a whisper, “I love you.” She smiles. 

“Yeah?” She tries to hold back her laugh, but she can’t. She’s happy, just elated, like she hasn’t been in a while. She sees his lips dip into a frown. He looks hurt, moving back from her now. “Wait, hey.” She reaches out through her laughter, bringing her smiling lips to his cheek. He turns to look at her again, his eyebrows raised in confusion. 

She’s still smiling as she mumbles, “I’m sorry.” Then, remembering what he had said, “I love you, too.” She says. His returning smile was bright as the sun, and flipped her heart in ways even his smirk hadn’t. “Why’s it so funny?” He asks as he brushes hair out of her face. She gets caught up in the action, the feeling of his hands touching her gently. “Not even going to tell me?” He teases lightly, turning her head to the sound just as she opens her eyes. 

Clarke meets his eyes, the deep brown threatening to drown her. Her hand lifts to run through his hair on its own accord. He sighs and leans into the touch. “Not funny.” She smiles at him, “Happy.” And with that she kisses him. He kisses back eagerly. His arms wrap around her and pull her close, his tongue tracing her lips as he tries to deepen the kiss. 

She should care more about the fight with Octavia, but at the moment she can’t. Not when he’s laying her down on his bed. His mouth explores her next and chest. He kisses her neck, nipping at her pulse and dragging his tongue over her collarbones. His hands roam her body, her own tangled n his soft curls. 

He tugs the hem of her shirt silently asking permission. She nods, sitting up slightly to help pull it off. Once it’s over her head, his mouth descends on her exposed skin. He continues like this, slowly removing each piece of her clothing as his mouth and hands explore her. It had never been like this between them. It was always desperate, hot and quick in stolen moments. But this, he was learning her, exploring her curves and cherishing them. 

By the time she was naked, she was so incredibly worked up she thought she might explode. “Bellamy.” She whines, already close as he broadly licks up her dripping cunt. He hums when his lips surround her clit. He sucks the already swollen bud into his mouth, the harsh suction in great contrast to the way he’s been touching her tonight. 

She comes when he adds the nip of her teeth. It’s a soft orgasm, peaceful in a way. She closes her eyes, a silent scream leaving her. When she regains her senses, he’s kissing her stomach, a hickey already forming on her hipbone. The way he undressed her, she wouldn’t be surprised if she had several. 

The thought reminded her he still had all his clothes on. She hummed a noise of disapproval before pushing up his shirt. He laughs, but obliges her and takes off his shirt. She sits up, running her hands along the hard planes of muscle. She meets his eyes as she begins to undo his pants. They discard his clothes together, eyes glued to each other as she lays back into his bed and he climbs on top of her. 

It’s slow and hard. Gentle in new, soulful ways yet bruising by the force of it. She clings to him, stares at his face, in his eyes, as he moves love to her. Time stands still; all that exists is this moment, this night. She loves him, and he loves her. She’s so happy, and her body hums with pleasure as he pulls her legs up to change the angle and hit a perfect spot inside her. 

She cries out in ecstasy when pinches her clit. She can’t remember much after she comes, just honest to god stars and his name falling from her lips. When she comes to, they’re both breathing heavily, lying side by side. Her legs are tangled in his and their fingers lay intertwined on her stomach. 

She wonders if he wants her to go. He made it seem like he wouldn’t, but he’s been indecisive before. She props her head up in her hand, turning her body so she can look at him. He has such a peaceful look on his face. A calm pleasure she feels herself. Maybe he’s asleep, she thinks as she brushes a finger along his cheek. 

His eye’s open lazily at the touch. So he’s not asleep. “You’re not going to run away this time, are you?” She whispers in a way that’s only half teasing. He shakes his heads, “No, no more running away.” He leans over to kiss her lips softly, “Not from you anyway.” He adds so quietly she almost doesn’t hear it. She decided not to comment as she wraps herself arms around his waist. 

“Go to sleep Bellamy.” She whispers as she kisses his chest. She lays her head over the kiss and lets herself drift off to sleep. “I love you.” She faintly hears him say as she losses all consciousness. She sleeps well, wrapped in him, the best she has since last time he held her. She loves him, and it’s probably her favorite mistake so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the end? Do you want more of this story? Probably an epilogue soon.


	7. You'd think I'd know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy talk about her future, and Octavia needs to crash at Bellamy's place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's taking me so long to update because finals suck.

Summer break starts in two weeks, and Bellamy is both thrilled and dreading it. On one hand, he’s tired of being so busy. He’s tired of grading every night and getting through teaching all day on four cups of coffee. He can’t wait to sleep past seven. And he really, really wants more time to spend with people he likes instead of students. 

On the other, Clarke will graduate. Which may not be a bad thing, he would feel better about their new relationship if he weren’t her teacher. But high school graduates leave for college. He’s proud of her for being smart and dedicated, but he selfishly doesn’t want her to leave. He’s not sure where she’s going, but it’s probably Ivy League, he does know her grades. She’s the valedictorian for fucks sake. 

It’s a Tuesday, when he decides to ask her when she’s leaving. They have exactly six more school days, so no ones bothering to give homework. It leaves them with the afternoons free to hang around his apartment. Octavia’s not talking to him unless she has to and Miller’s spending all his time with Monty, but even with excuses he knows he’d just rather hang out with Clarke. Which is why he’s on his couch, arms wrapped around her wile she wears his t-shirt and watches some drama on his Netflix, after yet another round of amazing sex. 

“When do you leave?” He half whispers when the episode ends. She turns to look at him, an unreadable expression of her face. She turns in his arms, rearranging herself so she’s straddling his lap. He watches her face carefully, his mind screaming to ignore the serious conversation and pay attention to the fact that she doesn’t have any underwear on. She meets his eyes and gives him a shy smile, “I’m kind of not.” 

What? The only colleges near here are the community one in their town, and the small arts college in a town 30 minuets north. His confusion must have showed on his face, because she lets out a soft sigh before continuing, “I uh- I got into art school.” And it almost sounds like a question, like she’s unsure. He’s known Clarke Griffin for almost a year now, and unsure is not one of things he’s seen on her face. With this in mind, he decides to proceed with caution. 

He cups her jaw gently, “So you’re going to Mount Weather?” He maintains their eye contact, something about her eyes always tells him how she’s feeling, and he needs that right now. She still looks a little unsure, but her eyes look determined. She nods, and her eyes flicker over his face in assessment before she speaks, “I haven’t told anyone but Wells. My mom, she’s not supportive of my art. I moved out when she found the application, actually.” It’s the most he’s ever heard her talk about her mother, or art for that matter. How could he not know about something she loves enough to leave home for?

“Can I see it?” He asks before he can register he is. He feels stupid as soon as he does, if she wanted him to see her work she would have showed him. So they’ve only been together two weeks, she’s been in his class all year and never once even mentioned making art. Her eyes widen, but before he can take it back she nods and slides off his lap. She walks over to her bag and pulls out a sketchbook before returning to her spot. She hands it to him shyly, which is not something he’s used to seeing on her. 

He looks at the sketches, mostly landscapes, both natural and urban. They’re amazing to say the least. He doesn’t quite understand why she’s hiding this. Or why her mother disapproves for that matter. She sits quietly and watches him look at through the pages. She seems to relax and he goes through, and he’s thankful she knows his silence is a good thing. 

Then he finds a sketch of himself, and she quickly grabs the book away from him. He looks at her, noting the alarm in her eyes. “That’s um- I-“ She stutters, apparently today he gets to see all kinds of Clarke he’s not used to. She’s adorable, and he can’t help the huge smile that spreads across her face. She stops her mumble of words and narrows her eyes. “You’re nice to draw, okay?” She crosses her arms. 

His smile widens at her irritation. He’s always had a thing for angry Clarke, since that second week of the school year when she stormed into his class and demanded he explain the grade he gave her. He shakes his head at the memory. “Clarke, you know it’s okay? I’m just, fuck-“ He runs his hand through his hair, “I just can’t believe I didn’t know. Your art is amazing, by the way, I just figured I’d know something this big about you.” She looks a little ashamed for a moment, before she whispered, “I don’t really show people.” And he feels like there’s more to it, but he doesn’t ask. 

He runs a hand through her hair, “You can tell me anything Clarke.” She smiles, and pulls the book back up, letting him look at the picture of himself. He’s obviously sleeping, lying on his stomach with his eyes closed. She pulls it away before he can really study it, and he makes as pouting face while trying to grab it back. 

“Mine.” She teases and puts it on the coffee table. She frames his face with her soft hands, “I’m not leaving.” She whispers. She must have known with the realization of her art he forgot about that sentiment. A huge grin crosses his face, “Yeah?” She smiles and nods before capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. 

Before he has a chance to deepen it, a phone on the coffee table rings. She groans but moves to look at it. “It’s yours.” She hands it over and he sees Octavia’s name on the screen. He doesn’t want to, but she’s his sister and he loves her, so he answers. “Mom’s got her shit-head boyfriend over and I need a place to crash. Can you put clothes on and kick your extra credit kid out?” She spits, still refusing to refer to Clarke as anything but cruel names. He’s still angry over what she called her last Saturday, and that really wasn’t helping. But he would never deny his sister a safe heaven from their mothers shit. 

“I can do one of those, but if you want to be here you’ll have to co-exist with Clarke.” She silent for a moment, before she sighs and answers, “Fine. But put fucking clothes on and keep it in your damn pants.” Then she hangs up. He meets Clarkes eyes, blue swirling with worry. “O’s coming over.” He explains, and her face morphs into one of sadness. 

“I’ll go then.” She stands up, her voice small. She had told him about her and Octavia’s new friendship, and he witnessed the end of it. He wants to feel guilty about ruining his sister’s friendships, but it’s not really his fault. She’s the one punishing him and Clarke. Plus he really wants to be with Clarke. All the guilt he feels is because Octavia’s hurting Clarke. 

He shakes his head, “No, I told her you were staying.” She looks at him skeptically, like she can’t believe Octavia would put up with her being here, and not for the first time he wonders what exactly his sister’s been saying to her. He stands up, “I did however promise clothes. So.” She grins, raising an eyebrow as her hands slowly reach the hem of the shirt she’s wearing. “So you want this back?” He nods, eyes stubbornly on hers as he silently challenges her. Without a second thought, she pulls it over her head, leaving her naked in front of him. 

He takes her in, and his hands raise to join his wandering gaze, but she shoves the shirt into his chest and smiles victoriously. “Then I guess I should put clothes on.” She gives him a teasing smile before making her way to his bedroom. 

His heart is still beating in his ears when he hears a knock at the door and Octavia’s voice calling his name. He pulls the shirt on and goes to answer it. His sister stands with a bag slung over her shoulder and a scowl on her face. “Hey O!” He greets as happily as he can. He’s pissed at her, she’s pissed at him, and she’s pissed at Clarke. He really didn’t think this through. “Hi.” She bites out before storming past him and throwing her bag onto the coffee table. 

“Do you want something to eat?” He offers somewhat awkwardly. She shakes her head at stands glaring at the couch. “Is it safe to sit on?” She points accusingly at the piece of furniture. “Yes? Why wouldn’t it be?” He shakes his head, remembering a upset Octavia never makes any sense. “Because you’re play thing stays here and the couch might be contaminated.” She states matter-of-factly. Anger rises in her chest. She just won’t fucking stop, and if she hasn’t pissed him off already, she definitely has now. 

“In that case, no, everything’s contaminated.” He says just to spite her. It’s not like it’s a lie, but she probably doesn’t need to know how active is sex life currently is. And he won’t feel bad because she did ask. She makes a face a pure disgust, “Disgusting.” She mumbles under her breath. He’s had enough, “Please Octavia, tell me how you really feel.” He says in half sarcasm. 

She turns to him now, meeting his eyes for the first time since she found out about Clarke. “You want to know how I feel? I feel like my big brother is sneaking around with his student, whom used to be my friend. I feel like you’re a hypocrite and a liar and going to ruin everything you worked so fucking hard for, because that whore makes you listen to your dick instead of your head!” She’s yelling by the end, and she opens her mouth to say more, but he raises a hand in a motion to stop. 

He’s put up with a lot from Octavia. He was there for her when his mother locked them in the closet. He was feeding her when his mother forgot, even after he moved out. He set her up a college fund when he turned 19. He was there when she started her first period and his mother was nowhere to be found. He put up with her breakups and imploding friendships. He let her take her anger out on him, let her say things over the year he might have killed other people for saying. He loves his little sister, but he won’t stand here, in his own home, and listen to her call someone he loves a whore. 

He knows his face is masked in disappointment, and he can see her register the look as her face falls. He opens his mouth, but closes it again, unsure how to tell her how she’s hurt him. With a sigh, he replies in the calmest voice he can manage, “Are you that stupid?” Even he can hear the anger seeping into his tone, “You don’t have to like it, but I love her.” For a moment he sees the shock in her face, before she schools it and lets him continue. “And you will stop with the name-calling, it’s childish and below you.” 

He’s in his bedroom before he even knows he’s walking away. He’s always been the one to walk away after a fight with Octavia. Clarke is lying over the covers on his bed, dressed in his sweatpants and one of the t-shirts she leaves here. She’s reading, obviously letting them have their argument. He wishes she hadn’t had to hear what Octavia said about her, but the walls are thin and there’s no way she didn’t. 

Leaning against the closed door, he watches her read for a moment. She really is beautiful. It still amazes him that she’s his. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” She teases, not looking up from her book. He smiles, cheeks reddening at having been caught starring at her. He’s allowed to do that now, he reminds himself, though it does nothing for his blush. 

“I’m sorry about Octavia.” He mumbles as he climbs on the bed next to her. She bookmarks her page and set the book on the night table beside her. She settles into his side, letting him wrap his arms around him. She always seems to know when he needs to hold her, when he needs a reminder that this is good. “She’s not your fault.” She mutters back. 

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, but he feels himself drifting off to sleep. “I’ll talk to her later.” He hears Clarke’s voice before his eyes slip closed. “I love you.” He tells her as he gives way to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Octavia and Clarke confrontations next?


	8. Coffee at 7 pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke tries to talk to Octavia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Low key hates self* please enjoy my trash.

Clarke had tried to give the Blake’s some privacy, she really had. Octavia knew she was here, so she’s pretty sure what she said wasn’t so much to anger her brother, as it was to hurt Clarke. She hadn’t meant to hear the fight, but the fact remains Octavia had meant for her to. As she lay in Bellamy’s bed, curled around him while he sleeps, she wonders if she should try talking to Octavia. She has refused to speak to Clarke since she found out about Bellamy, but she would really like to change that. She takes a moment to prepare herself for the hell her once friend was going to unleash once she does talk, then begins to untangle herself from Bellamy.

She stands at the bedroom door a moment, breathing deeply to calm her nerves. She’s not a nervous person, but something about the Blake’s gives them the power to make her anxious. From the narrow hallway she can hear Octavia in the kitchen. The faucet turns on, and then turns back off before the water ran for even a second. A cabinet slams a little too hard, rattling the dishes inside. Good to know she hasn’t calmed down at all.

Clarke enters the kitchen to find Octavia glaring into a coffee mug, her legs swinging from her perch on the table. She registers the faint sound of the coffee maker and decides to go for it. She walks in, not looking at Octavia, and feels the brunette look up to glare at her. As Clarke’s taking a mug from the cabinet Octavia speaks, “Coffee won’t be done for a few more minutes.” It’s the most she’s said, and Clarke can’t help but smile a little bit.

“Alright, thanks.” She turns and leans against the counter, tries not to think about how the girl sitting on the table’s brother screwed her on that very piece of furniture the night before. “Do you think we could talk?” She asks after a moment. Octavia’s head snaps to her, their eyes meeting in a silent argument. After a long and tense moment, she nods, and then waves her hand for Clarke to continue.

With a sigh, she begins, “I know you’re upset, but you have to understand-“ Octavia scoffs, causing Clarke to stop. “I understand perfectly.” She hopes off the table, which, finally. “I understand you were my friend, for months you were my friend.” She points a finger accusingly at Clarke, “And then you decided to fuck my brother. My brother, who is your teacher.” She seethes, riling herself up as she speaks. “This, whatever it is you think you have, could very easily ruin his career. It could ruin his life and you don’t even stop to think about that.”

She stomps angrily when Clarke tries to cut in, to calm her, “ The career which, I’ll have you know, he worked hard as hell for. Not everyone is born with a silver spoon shoved up their ass. He can’t afford to lose this, and he loves teaching, so he damn sure doesn’t want to.” Clarke can’t meet her eyes anymore, instead looking down at the floor. Objectively, she knew this, but she hadn’t put much thought into what would happen if the wrong people found out about her and Bellamy. She feels guilty now, that she’s made him put so much on the line. She’s also vaguely aware that this is why he was trying to stop everything before it happened, and the thought only makes her feel guiltier.

“Oh, so now you have nothing to say?” She cuts into Clarke’s thoughts, her arms are crossed, and she stands tall. She’s right, and she knows it. “You know I would never want that.” Is all she manages, her voice small and eyes still not meeting Octavia’s. Even to her it sounds weak and sad. With another scoff, Octavia begins again, “Not to mention, as my friend, you should have stayed away from my brother. My  _ brother _ Clarke.”

“I’m sorry, Octavia, I really am, but I love him. And nothing short of him telling me he wants me to leave him, is going to separate us.” She says with her final vote of confidence, even if she feels like she’s in the wrong. The problem was being with Bellamy was so right and good, she doesn’t want to even think about going back to what she was before. Octavia gives her a look Clarke can’t quite decipher. “Then you’ve made your choice.” And with that she’s walking out of the kitchen, leaving Clarke to the sound of the coffee pot timer.

She pours herself a cup, and absentmindedly goes through the motions of adding cream and sugar. “Coffee at 7 in the afternoon, really?” A deep voice startles here, causing her to spill hot coffee down her shirt. “Shit!” She hisses, setting the mug down quickly. “Sorry.” Bellamy mumbles and she hears him pull a hand towel from the drawer. She pulls her shirt off, now stained with burning coffee, and tosses it aside. “Here” He offers the towel to her, helping as she cleans the hot liquid off of herself.

“Should’ve known.” She grumbles to herself once they’ve finished. “Should’ve known what?” He asks, concern and a twinge of guilt evident in his voice. She smiles, catching his eyes. “I’ll put this in the hamper.” She takes her shirt from the counter and goes to his room to put the laundry away. He wordlessly follows, handing her one of his shirts and sitting on the bed. He watches her pull it on, eyes soft but questioning.

She sighs, moving to sit beside him. His arm wraps around her automatically. She takes a moment to enjoy the feeling of him, before turning her head to speak, “You know I love you, right?” He looks at her likes she’s crazy for a second, before his expression softens into one of loving fondness. “Yeah, I know.” He kisses the crown of her head, “I love you too.”

They sit there for a moment, both lost in thought. “I tried to talk to Octavia.” She says, voice full of emotion. “I tried, but I don’t think she’s ever going to forgive me.” Her voice breaks at the end, and she trembles a bit as she tries not to cry. It shouldn’t make her  _ this _ upset, she reasons, but reason doesn’t matter because she  _ is  _ this upset. Damn if she didn’t want to fix this.

“Hey.” He says, voice soft. He gently grabs her chin and tilts her head to look at him. “Give her time.” He assures, but she thinks he’s wrong. She almost argues, but she’s had enough for today. Instead, she moves into his lap, wrapping her arms around him and sighing as his wrap around her. He kisses the top of her head, “It’ll all be okay, I promise.” He whispers, and for a moment she pretends to let herself believe him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Im thinking one more chapter then the epilogue. Thank you all for reading!


	9. Austin Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy takes Clarke to dinner, and they run into someone they know. Clarke shares with Bellamy a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. I've enjoyed this and I hope you have too :) Thank you for reading!
> 
> Do you want an epilogue?

The day before graduation they almost get caught. Bellamy knew it had been a stupid idea, taking her out. But honestly, who could blame him? A month with her and it didn’t exist outside of their apartments. He had needed it, needed to know that she was still his when they left their little bubble. So the last Friday of the school year, he took her to dinner. 

He picked her up, only spend a minute with his mouth gaping open at the sight of her in the little dress she had on, the deep blue fabric hugging her curves and making her eyes shine even more then usual. He drove for an hour until they reached Austin, thinking the distance and size of the city would keep them from running into anyone they knew. 

However, he was wrong. It wasn’t the fanciest place, but it was nice enough. He was still on a teachers salary, and Clarke didn’t seem to mind one bit. Clarke had this smile on her face the whole time, one that said she was happy and anxious all at once. He wished she could be carefree in her happiness, but he knew that wasn’t possible with their situation. They were halfway through the meal when she freezes, eyes distant over his shoulder. 

“Clarke?” He tries to get her attention. She slowly turns to him, and panic rises at her wide eyes. “Finn Collins is here.” Is all she says, four words that shift the world just enough for them to scramble. He nods slowly, watching her turn back to what he figures is Finn. She’s got this deer in the headlights look that makes him sick to his stomach. He hates it when she’s scarred. Shifting so he’s in between her and where she’s looking, he reaches out and takes her hand. 

“Look at me.” He says softly. She hesitantly turns to meet his eyes, panic swirling in them. He takes a deep breath, “Go to the bathroom, I’ll pay and meet you in the front in a few minutes.” She nods somewhat absently, and then her eyes go distant again. “Clarke.” He calls, and her gaze meets his again. “Everything’s okay, I promise.” He can’t really promise that, he knows, but she accepts it and stands to leave. 

He watched her go, and once she’s safely in the ladies room waves down a waiter for the check. The teenage boy gives him an odd look at the half eaten meal, but doesn’t comment. When he reaches the front he worries a little, he had figured Clarke would beat him here. 

“Mr.Blake.” He hears, turning to see Finn Collins. He would never hate a student, but Finn is as close as he’s ever come, aside from those first few months of knowing Clarke. “Hi, how are you?” He smiles, trying to be polite. He’s still not quite over hearing him taking about Clarke. It shouldn’t bother him that Finn likes his girlfriend, but it does. It makes him feel more like a teenager then he wants to be. “I’m good. You?” He asks with that stupid smile on his face that’s always made Bellamy want to punch him. Since Finn’s technically not his student anymore, he could punch him and not loose his job on the spot. But he’s pretty sure the kid would press charges, and then the school would still fire him. 

Thankfully he’s saved from answering by a woman he vaguely recognizes as Finns mother walking up. “Finn, come sit down huh?” She asks with a fake sweetness that makes him a little sick to his stomach. “Of course. Mother you remember Mr. Blake.” He gestures towards Bellamy. He almost asks who calls their mother by mother, but he realizes he doesn’t care before he even opens his mouth. “Yes, of course. The English teacher.” She gives Bellamy that sickening sweet smile. “History, actually.” He says with the best smile he can fake, hoping to god Clarke sees what’s happening before Finn spots her. “Oh.” She falters, then turns back to Finn to get him to go to their table. 

When they’re gone, he sighs in relief. Clarke appears beside him, making him jump a bit. “Come on.” She says before grabbing his hand and heading out the door. They walk down the street in silence. Any other night it would be beautiful, the city lights and sounds. Tonight though, he can’t shake the horrible feeling deep in his gut, and can’t even begin to enjoy it. 

“Stop making that face.” He vaguely hears Clarke’s voice, causing him to slow his pace and turn slightly to hear her better. “I’m not making a face.” He grumbles back, even though he knows he is. She laughs a little, sweet laugh. The sound makes his heart flutter stupidly and a smile to spread across his face. He loves her so much sometimes he can’t believe he very nearly hated her once. “I’m sorry about tonight.” His voice turns serious. Hell of a first date, his mind muses unhelpfully. She stops where she is, turning him to look straight at her off to the side of the walk. 

She studies his face, watches him fidget under her gaze. He can’t help but think maybe this is it, that maybe she’s done with him. She may not be his student anymore, but they still have to be a secrete, at least for a while. Maybe tonight was just too close, or she only wanted it when it when he was her teacher. He’s pretty sure he’s stopped breathing at this point, efficiently freaking himself out. 

Her face breaks into a large smile. One that lights up her whole and does crazy things to the color of her eyes. “I love you.” She says, half laughing through the words. He lets out a breath before returning her smile. “I love you too.” He wraps an arm around her, tucking her into his side and placing a kiss to her head. 

They continue to walk through the city, this time talking and laughing. He enjoys the lights and the music coming from various different establishments. He enjoys the feeling of her next to him, thinks maybe it’s where she’s meant to be. 

“You want to know a secrete?” She says after a little while. He makes a noise of agreement and squeezes her hip where his hand is resting. “I’ve had this stupid, huge crush on you since freshman year.” She says bluntly. For the second time tonight he stops. He really, really wasn’t expecting that. “Four years?” is about all he can choke out. He didn’t even know who she was until this year. 

She smiles a shy smile, blush rising of her cheeks. “I used to be a little upset, you know. I was right there and you never saw me. But I’m glad now. I was a kid, and if I had known you then, I don’t think we would’ve ended up here.” He still can’t really wrap his head around the fact that she’s known and liked him for years, but he does get what she means. He would still see her as a kid if he met her while she was one. He cups her face with his hands, looking into her vibrant blue eyes as they dance with the city lights. “I love you Clarke Griffin.” He whispers, just for her, before kissing her softly. 

It’s a sweet kiss; full of the love he has for her. It’s also a promise, that what they have isn’t going anywhere. That he isn’t going anywhere. He kisses her slowly, much to deeply for the public sidewalk. When he pulls back, he can still taste her on his lips so he licks them. Her pink lips are slightly puffy from being kissed. So he kisses her once more, just for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I've never left Texas 
> 
> (Austin is the capital) 
> 
> Remember the Alamo


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue is here! Set 14 years later, on their anniversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It started as a smut fic, so it shall end there.

At 32, Clarke Griffin is the happiest person alive, a self-proclaimed title. She said as much, announced it even, at the party celebrating her 10 years of marriage. She was more than a little tipsy, and more importantly happy surrounded by the friends that had become her family. She had been either pregnant or breastfeeding pretty constantly over the last five years, but could hardly complain. She could also not be blamed for the amount of alcohol she had consumed. 

They were celebrating at the bar Octavia owned, with her newly wed husband Lincoln. The two had met Octavia’s junior year of college, when he hired her as a bartender. Five years later, she was now his co-owner, wife, and mother of his child. Octavia had taken a while to forgive Clarke after high school. In fact, it wasn’t until she announced her engagement to Bellamy, nearly four years after her graduation that Octavia could even begin to forgive her. 

After that, it took less then a year for them to become the best of friends again. Raven had left for college, then stayed gone for grad school. They had stayed in touch, even visiting the third girl together on occasion. Her coming home party and been the last time Clarke got drunk. Though, home had moved to a new place. Raven got hired in Huston, working for NASA, just forty-five minuets from the town Bellamy and Clarke had settled in. Octavia had been living in the town since college, and her friends from the university, Harper and Anya, had quickly become part of their group. 

Clarke loves Octavia and Raven, the trio even closer then they had been the last year of high school. And god does she miss Wells, but he visits at least once a month, even if only for a day. They talk on the phone, and everyday she gets a little closer to convincing him to move closer. Her mother had moved to Austin after Clarke graduated, moving to work in state government instead of local. She and Abby had been at odds after she announced she was going to art school, but after Abby realized just how serious about it Clarke was, she accepted and even encouraged it. 

Bellamy’s friends ended up moving nearby, close enough to convince him he didn’t need new ones. While Jasper stayed in their hometown to live with a girl he met in college, Maya, Monty and Miller were living just a few towns over. This however didn’t stop Clarke from convincing him to befriend Lincoln, and the two have been close since his nephew’s birth. Bellamy had ended up back at school to get his PhD. He’s almost finished, and the excitement of it grew more with each new day. He was without a doubt the best part of her life. Clarke loves her friends, and god does she love her children, but Bellamy is the love of her life. 

He’s her partner, her best friend, and her love. She can’t imagine life without him, and doesn’t want to. He’s also her muse, which Miller gives him endless shit for. Clarke had opened her own studio, in part with Anya, a year after they moved to town. She loved teaching art classes and working in the small shop, but thankfully most of her job was creating her own work. She loved to draw or paint Bellamy specifically, and the amount of pieces she’s put out featuring him is outstanding. 

“Hey, where’d you go?” Octavia waves her hand in front on Clarke’s face. “Sorry.” Clarke says with a half-drunken smile. “I think it’s about time I go home, catch up on sleep before I have my kids back.” She begins to get off the bar stool, uneasy on her feet. She begins to fall, panic rising as she blindly grabs to hold herself up. “Easy there.” A deep voice sounds in her ear and she grasps a forearm. 

She looks up with a smirk to face her husband. She steadies herself, moving to wrap her arms around his torso. Burying her face in the crook of his neck she whispers, “You want to get out of here?” into his skin. He laughs a bright sound, squeezes her tighter, and says something she doesn’t catch, presumably to Octavia. “Yeah,” He mumbles as he kisses her head, “Lets go home.” 

It’s a nice night, the air is cool but not cold, the stars bright enough to see even in town. The walk to their house is usually short, but tonight they walk slowly, arms wrapped around each other. They travel in compatible silence. She’s smiling like an idiot, buzzed from the alcohol and high from her happiness. 

When they reach the house, she has to sigh at the sight of it. It’s a nice place, bigger then the place they shared with Octavia when they first moved here. With three kids it would have to be. As she thinks of her children, the thought of them currently being away sparks an idea. But she waits until they’re inside, toeing off their shoes and hanging up their jackets to say something. 

“Bellamy.” She says, as teasingly as she can. It’s not necessarily hard to have sex with the kids in the house, especially once they learned to sleep through the night. It is however a little weird, and they tend to not more then they do. She’s pretty sure he’s terrified one of the kids is going to wake up and come in for something, and while she understands, she really wants to be having sex with her awesome husband every night. 

He looks at her now, eyes dark and sparking a familiar flame in her core. With a seductive grin, she reaches back and unzips her dress slowly. His eyes follow the fabric as it drops to the floor. For a moment they stand with heated eyes and heavy breaths, she watches his face as he takes her in, sees the desire and lust he doesn’t bother to hide. They probably could’ve picked a different game for the party then to not so discreetly tease each other, and she can feel her arousal gathering between her thighs. 

When their eyes meet it’s like a damn bursts, and suddenly they’re moving forward. Their lips meet in a deep kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth and stroking hers. She slides her hands under his shirt, but after only a moment of enjoying the twitch of his muscles she moves to pull at the hem. He takes the hint and helps her take it off, the moment it’s gone his lips are on her neck. 

She whimpers as his mouth works over the skin of her neck, down until he’s kissing the tops of her breasts where they spill from her bra. She twists one hand into his hair, pulling softly at the curls when he finds an extra sensitive spot. The other hand digs it’s nails into his shoulder, leaving crescent shaped indents in his skin. She doesn’t realize they’re moving until her back hits the wall, the thud causing her to gasp. 

He mouths her through her bra, the lacy material abrading her skin just slightly. She’s wet and rubbing just slightly against his thigh before he even touches her nipple, and when he does he places hot, sucking kisses over them. She shivers with each one, tugging his hair involuntarily. 

His hands leave her hips and slide up to unclasp her bra, tossing the cloth aside and moving to message her now uncovered breasts. “Oh god.” She whispers, voice hoarse as he drops to his knees, kissing her stomach as his hands work. He smirks into her skin and drops his hands to the waistband of her panties. He loops two fingers of each hand into the fabric and lowers them, but instead of taking them off he kisses the strip of skin they had covered. 

He continues this, removing them inch-by-inch and kissing the exposed skin until they’re midway down her thighs, having avoided touching where she wants him most. Her whole body shakes with desire, her every nerve burning where he’s touched her. He must know what’s he doing to her, if the smug look on his face when he finally lets her panties drop to the floor is anything to go by. 

She lifts her foot to kick them aside, but he takes them and rises to his feet. With a smirk he leans in to whisper to her, his mouth touching her ear as he speaks, “You’re fucking soaked.” His voice is rough and low, and she shivers. His words go straight to her cunt, making her inner muscles clench. As if to prove his point, he takes her panties and runs the across her right boob. 

She gasps, but he just smirks even more. He meets her eyes with a challenge in his own as he lowers his head to the now sticky mound. Eyes never leaving hers, he licks and sucks at her until the only wetness is his saliva. She can hardly breath, each inhale shaky. Her thighs tremble, his hands on her hips the only thing keeping her up. 

She pulls him back up to her lips and kisses him. He responds eagerly, smiling smugly into it like he’s won something. She pushes her tongue into his mouth, running it along his until he moans and grinds into her, then she’s the one who’s smug. “Fuck babe.” He whispers into her mouth, trying to catch his breath. She loops her arms around his neck, using the leverage to wrap her legs around his waist. He catches her weight with his hands low on her hips, grunting and grinding against her. 

“Bedroom Bell.” She mumbles, taking his earlobe between her teeth and tugging lightly. He groans against her neck, and then begins to take them to their bedroom down the hall. She figures he’d get there faster if she weren’t taking the opportunity to explore his neck with her mouth, but she doesn’t plan on stopping. 

She’s distracted enough not to notice them entering the room until he’s dropping her onto the bed. Since her arms are still draped over his shoulders she pulls him down with her. He laughs against her mouth, kissing her again before moving her arms and standing up at the edge of the bed. His eyes roam her body, naked and stretched out on their bed. She knows she’s flushes and already covered in a sheen of sweat, but he’s looking at her like she’s the best thing in the world so she can’t really be anything but somehow more turned on. 

She catches her lip in between her teeth and lets her own eyes wonder his body. He’s moving to remove his pants; how he still had them on she’ll never know; and his muscles flex and twitch with the movement. When he catches her eye, having seen her watching him, he smiles smugly and raises and eyebrow. Had she not already been flushed, she would have blushed, and from the way his lips twist sweetly she might have anyway. 

Once he’s as naked as she is, she moves to the middle of the bed. He smiles as he climbs onto the bed and over to her, then he fucking winks. She’s half way through a laugh when he dips his head and pulls her nipple into his mouth. Her laugh becomes a moan as his tongue flicks her erect bud back and forth. 

It leaves his mouth with a wet pop, and he grins down at her. She can’t help but smile back. “Come on.” She whispers, wrapping her arms around him. Still smiling, he lines the tip of his erection up with her entrance. He kisses her as he pushes in, her body easily adjusting to him. Once he’s fully inside her she sighs at the feeling of being filled by him. 

She’s never going to not love him being inside her. She whispers it against his ear, biting at the shell of it. He lets out a huff of a laugh, and then suddenly he’s pulling out and trusting back into her at a merciless pace. She cries out, legs instinctively wrapping around him. His thrusts are hard and fast, giving her body what it’s wanted all night. “Shit, just like that.” Her voice is breathy and high, and he grabs her thigh to pull her leg higher on her back. 

It doesn’t take long for her to near her climax, her body already so worked up. She’s got white spots in her vision, her pussy clenching in waves of pleasure as she approaches her peak. In this moment, he’s all that exists in this world, him and the pleasure he’s sending through her body. 

She feels his breath hot against her ear, hears his husky voice, but she can’t make out the words. It doesn’t matter though, because the next second his thumb is rubbing fast circles into her clit, and she’s gone. She comes with a cry sounding like his name, nails digging into his back and head thrown back. She see’s nothing but brightness, feels nothing but the waves of ecstasy crashing through her. 

When she comes back, he’s coming inside her. She holds his tight, watches his face through her haze. She smiles, having always loved the way he looks when he comes. His face goes slack and he drops his head to her shoulder as his orgasm ends. “I really fucking love you.” He says after a moment. 

“Happy anniversary love.” She replies, working her fingers through his hair. “I really fucking love you too.” She adds. He props himself up on his elbows, slowly pulling out of her. She sighs at the loss, and when he flops onto her back she rolls right over with him. His arms wrap around her, pulling her further into his side. “Happy anniversary.” He whispers, then kisses her head. 

She falls asleep happy in the arms of her husband. If someone had told her in high school she’d end up here, she wouldn’t have believed them. She might have even punched them for teasing her. But as it is, she has everything she could want. And damn if she isn’t the happiest person alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My internets being weird, if it happens to cause problems in the posting, sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> And the Liler strikes again with the smut no one saw coming (thats what she said)


End file.
